The Little Death
by astraplain
Summary: Written for the one sentence prompt: "You'll send me to my grave alive!"


When his thoughts were too unsettled for sleep, Florian passed the night among the books of Ray's extensive library. Most of the spring was spent in adventure, after a winter spent with science and history. It was summer now and the air in the room was oppressive but Florian barely noticed; he'd found the erotica.

He'd heard of the little death long before he experienced it. He suspected that most people's experiences weren't as close to literal as his had been but that wasn't a question to be asked at social events. Instead, he sought the answers in books, growing warmer regardless of the room's temperature.

There were pictures in some of the books - mostly of women and not nearly enough men. But there were the rare few that he lingered over - ones that offered tantalizing glimpses of men pressed together, of men intertwined. He studied the images as if they were riddles without answers. Returning the books to their shelves felt like surrender.

He carried that feeling inside of himself, feeling it grow heavier as the summer days grew more humid. Ray's questioning gaze burned, but Florian remained silent, and the nighttime visits to library continued.

It was August when he broke, clutching one of those books to his chest as he returned to his room through the accusing silence. It wasn't that he'd never... of course he had, but not since...

He didn't want to die - not even symbolically. But the heat and Ray's proximity and the unwanted knowledge he'd gained were killing him. At least this would be quick, if not exactly clean.

He left the candle burning as he undressed, inhaling sharply at the feel of cool sheets against his heated skin. He held the book open to his favorite image, although he knew it well enough to draw it from memory. The weight of the book, the import of its presence in his room added to the feeling of transgression. He was already hard.

It had been a long time since he'd sought his own release, but it wasn't going to be over quickly. There were too many memories, too many fears to overcome. He lowered the book when the image blurred. His hand stilled and he turned his head, defeated.

He redressed and returned the book to the shelf. His fingers lingered on the spines of his favorites, saying farewell. He couldn't continue to pretend.

It was a slower journey back to his room and he didn't bother to undress. He rarely made use of the brandy decanter Ray had supplied, but he made an exception tonight. He barely felt the burn as he emptied three glasses. Sleep came in the form of brandied oblivion but he welcomed it anyway.

The brandy demanded payment in the morning but Florian had more immediate concerns; his hands were bound and he was naked. Ray was sitting beside him reading _that_ book.

"I can see why you favor this one. The art is quite good." He closed the book and set it on the nightstand.

"Why am I bound? And...?"

"Naked? Unclothed? What is the proper term for a nobleman in your position I wonder?" Ray leaned in close enough that Florian could smell coffee and cigars.

"Angry," Florian supplied in his haughtiest tone.

"No, no, not gentlemanly at all. But then, neither is this, I suppose." Ray reached down casually and stroked Florian's penis; it was half hard. "Do you think anything happens in this house without my knowledge?"

"All the time." Florian retorts, a hint of anger and panic edging his voice. "Or Laila wouldn't try to poison us on a weekly basis."

"Some lessons need to learned the hard way," Ray dismissed the point lightly. "And some lessons can be somewhat painful." He stroked Florian twice before twisting hard enough to make Florian gasp.

"I've already learned this lesson courtesy of your friend," Florian hissed, turning his head away and biting his lip hard to keep from crying. He needed anger to hold panic at bay.

"You know I won't rape you."

"But you'll tie me down and use me against my will?"

"How am I using you, Florian? I'm taking no pleasure from this, and I'm not asking you to give me any."

"What then, you'll send me to my grave alive as in those books? Give me the little death and expect me to be grateful? "

"I expect nothing. You've surrendered already, I'm showing you there is no battle other than the one you're waging against yourself." Ray lowered his voice and stilled his hand, looking intently into Florian's eyes as he said, "What you lost, what was taken, is not who you are."

"I know that," Florian admitted in a voice as broken as his spirit. "But I can't... I..."

"Then let me." Ray didn't wait for Florian's reply. He resumed his movements, keeping his attention on Florian's face rather than his body. That was how Ray saw Florian's eyes darken, how Ray caught the hitch in Florian's breath before the pale body stiffened and the skin flushed pink. How Ray knew, before he felt the release. How Ray understood enough to lean over and kiss away the silent tears.

He left Florian bound while he cleaned him, saving them both from some awkwardness. Ray lingered until Florian slept, and then he released the ties. He stared for a moment, hungry and wanting, but he turned away without touching and left the room as quietly as he'd arrived.

::end::


End file.
